


Ten-Twelve (Standby)

by everyshootingstar



Series: You'll be the Worker, I'll be the Soldier [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Firefighters, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everyshootingstar/pseuds/everyshootingstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Human firefighters were just volunteers, they weren't really worth a steady paycheck like werewolf firefighters were. </p>
<p>At least that's how the council saw it. </p>
<p>Stiles doesn't necessarily agree, but this is what he does, this is who he is. He may not get paid for all of the work he puts in as assistant chief, while trying to keep a steady job on the outside, but his dad had always taught him that the heroes...the firemen, the police, the EMTs and Paramedics, they did this to save lives. </p>
<p>That's exactly what Stiles does. He saves lives and he's damn proud of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten-Twelve (Standby)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, hey so like this is my first ever Sterek fanfic.  
> I wrote this one, as a little love story to my own current profession as a firefighter at my station and because my Derek mentioned that there's not any fics that involve Stiles as a firefighter.  
> It's going to be a series, definitely. This one's not really shippy at all, I mean there's mentions of a sort of pre-slash thing going on.  
> I just ended up going to a fire the other day and got this idea so the series is very out of order, but the next installment should include Derek and Stiles meeting. Also please don't let the tone of it scare(?) you and/or fool you, there's going to be some deep stuff in this.  
> After all, it deals with the brotherhood that is fire departments.  
> Now, the only thing you'll need to know dealing with dispatch and such is that 10-4 means affirmative and 10-17 means en route.  
> As a general warning, these will probably be named after ten codes.  
> Uh I think that's it. If you have any questions just give me a holler and I hope you enjoy it :)

_Station 600, standby for traffic._

Stiles winced as tell-tale ear shattering tone for his department went off. Even after being a member for three or so odd years he never really got used to the sound, so he just ignored it to the best of his ability knowing that the werewolf members of his crew had it worse and started hopping into his turnout gear.

Less than a minute later he and Scott were climbing into Engine 601 and the tone had died down, dispatch coming back over the walkie.

_Station 600; respond to a structure fire on 1750 White Lane, 1750 White Lane._

The Engine came to life smoothly as Stiles released the brakes and put her in drive. He picked up the walkie as they pulled out of the fire department bay and onto the street, sirens blaring as they zipped through the moderate traffic.

“Dispatch, this is 651, ten-seventeen.”

_Ten-four, 651._

The drive to the residence took about five minutes and when they arrived to the scene, everything went on autopilot. The entire structure was up in flames and thankfully, Medic hadn’t been dispatched so that meant there were no inhabitants inside. It still scared the shit out of Stiles to see what used to be a three bedroom house completely engulfed in flames, the wooden structure of the house completely blackened. Furniture was burnt up and popping loudly over the sirens and Stiles stood frozen for a few moments before quickly catching himself. 

“Get up there and start pumping the truck!” He barked out to Scott who quickly swung himself up onto the deck and began working the controls.

Stiles lifted his walkie to his mouth again, “Dispatch, 601, 607 have arrived at scene.”

_Ten-four, Station 600._

He shoved it into one of the thick pockets of his turnout pants and began grabbing hoses, hooking them up and pulling them out to the structure.

They couldn’t save it anymore. The structure was engulfed; dispatch had even come over the walkie once and made the call. The only important thing right now was to protect the houses around it; the automobiles were pretty much protected.  Auto insurance covered these things, but unless you had the really expensive home owners insurance, like he’d made his dad get, they didn’t cover fires.

Around halfway through the vicious fight that included spraying down the sides of neighboring houses to keep the siding from melting off any more than it already had, the tone dropped for two more departments because the wind wouldn’t stop, which made the fire spread from the structure onto the grass and shrubbery beside it.

At the three and a half hour mark, the debris that was left from the fire had finally stopped smoking at an alarming rate, now just a pile of soggy wood and electrical wires.

Now came the fun part that involved unhooking the hoses and walking them to get the water out of the lines so they could be folded back onto the truck. It wasn’t Stiles’ favorite part at all, but it had to be done. Everything had to be done to a point of perfection. The male and female ends of the hoses cleaned out before being reattached to the opposite. The excess hose that another station undoubtedly left at the scene rolled up and stored inside the truck. Each nozzle had a place that it went and reports had to be filled.

And of course, the truck had to be refilled.

(If any water was used, even the smallest amount, refill it. That was a motto they had at the station.)

By the time they’d finished with everything and they were heading back to the station, Stiles was exhausted.

“Dispatch, this is 600. We’re ready and available.”

_Ten-four, 600._

“Man that fire wasn’t playing around,” Scott said, tearing out of his gear, already feeling a bit overheated.

Stiles had stripped down to just his gear pants, but they were opened and his suspenders loosened so all he had to do was push them down and step out of his boots, “If you’d at least take off your coat when we’re folding the hoses, you wouldn’t get red faced,” he pointed out as he kicked his pants to the side to air out and dry for a bit. He could barely feel his legs as is.

“Yeah, Chief.” Scott said, walking over to grab one of the fold-up chairs near the back of the station.

Stiles followed him and flopped down onto the set of steps situated in the back corner, “Not chief yet,” he said, yawning and leaning back into the lip of a stair, “Gotta be nominated.”

Scott turned his chair to face Stiles, “Dude you’ve got my vote,” he said, then went quiet for a few minutes, before, “So, that guy you met last week at that signal 71, you know, where you saved his friend’s kid from choking…”

“You mean the one that found me at my crappy hole in the wall job at the 7-11?” Stiles asked dryly.

Scott snickered, “Yes,” he said. “How is he?”

Stiles lifted his head and looked at Scott, “He hasn’t come back to the store, if that’s what you’re saying,” he said blankly.

“Don’t give up hope, man. I’m sure he’ll show up soon.”

He snorted softly, “Doubtful,” he said. “Once guys find out I’m a hot fireman working at 7-11 to make ends meet they leave,” he said sarcastically as he pushed himself up, “I appreciate your vote of confidence though. I’m gonna go nap upstairs. Wake me up in a few hours, yeah?”

Scott waved at Stiles as he walked up the stairs to the common room to sleep for the next three hours before his shift at the 7-11.

After all, human firefighters were just volunteers. 


End file.
